Cartography

Words
Words
Words

Still failing me
Still at a loss for the right ones
Have I learned them?
They must be in there somewhere
Somewhere in that convoluted shithole of my brain
Someplace stored away
The right words
The ones that aptly describe terror
That aptly espouse the truth they contain
But I can't find them
Not without trouble
Not without stumbling
Not without consequence

So I wither
And I build
Build
Build
Walls
Walls made of rubies
Opaque
Deliriously gorgeous
Flawed
But without match

This is a public forum
We all need something
I need this
I do
I need to pin the shirts to the line
Drag them into the breeze
Let the wind do its thing
And pull them back again

Sometimes beauty does this funny little trick
Sometimes beauty comes over but brings its cousin
And it's the cousin that no one likes around
The cousin causes you to begrudge beauty
The cousin talks your ear off the whole night when your attention lies elsewhere
The cousin is a tornado

Beauty's cousin love to dispense with the familial advice
You are no match for this
No one is
And the advice is always taken
No matter the cost

Here's a line
here's another

Stories like to play dress up
They enjoy the masquerade
Guilded cloaks
Ornate masks
The province of myth
And we are tourists to the plot

So there are elements
And there are facets
There are paths
And there are signs pointing in various directions
One must know how to read a map
One must be a fucking cartographer
One must be familiar with survival tactics
Because in the wild
All is fair
And everything is hungry
And you are dinner

Pink bunny
A cymbal
A symbol
Still going
Still going
Still going

And here I am
Everywhere and nowhere
Maybe nearer to the light
Maybe as lost as ever
Wouldn't the keeper rejoice
Wouldn't his flock give pause as he jumps for joy
Lands in piles of shit
That no one could ever keep up with